


Crystal Vision

by auld_cheeky



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auld_cheeky/pseuds/auld_cheeky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's October of Blaine's senior year when he pays Carole a long-overdue visit. The Hudmel men are dearly missed, but misery does love company (and Carole's is top-notch). Totally and utterly outside of canon now, but a nice canonish AU, shall we say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crystal Vision

**Author's Note:**

> Relevant songs are linked in-text, any other mentions are too fleeting to be worth the listen. Also posted here at [k_b](http://kurt-blaine.livejournal.com/3878418.html)
> 
> P.S.: Contains fleeting Sebofsky. Couldn't fully explain why.

As the Hudmel family clock chimed twice on the mantelpiece, Carole Hudson emerged from the master bedroom looking refreshed and feeling halfway there. She set about putting a pot of coffee to brew, bypassing the Folgers and breaking out the unopened sleek canister Kurt had stashed above the toaster in the flurry of late August preparations. The echoing clink of her cereal bowl against the tile countertop arrested her motions instantly, and she moved to turn on the household's preset classics radio station before she continued.

Carole poured out her Special K to the soundtrack of '[Burning For You](http://youtu.be/ipqqEFoJPL4)' by Blue Öyster Cult, having successfully sidestepped a run-in with the too-loud sound of wheat flakes on ceramic that had only begun to give her the willies this fall. The night shift hadn't been particularly rough that evening, but even so she'd been restless in bed for a good hour after waking Burt up, finally succumbing sometime after half seven. Her husband had left on a flight to D.C. while she slept, likely to return in ten days with ten grievances for every one victory.

She reflected on a girl, early twenties, who'd been brought in last night after breaking her arm in an inebriated tumble. "As long as I can pitch a perfect game Saturday with this one," the girl had grinned lopsidedly as she threw her good arm around a friend. She'd teetered violently on a sprained ankle as they made their way out the door.

The muffled click of the front screen door brought Mrs. Hudson back to attention. "Special delivery for one Carole Hudmel," a warm voice rang out in the entryway.

"Unless it's an extra hour of sleep and new vertebrae, send it back," she called out.

Blaine's face fell as he entered the kitchen. "Oh, um, sorry Carole, I can come back later if–"

"Honey?" she interrupted, "Hon-honey. I called you, remember?"

He pursed his lips, nodding and tucking his fingers in his back pockets. He'd worn some older jeans and a charcoal military jacket over a checkered red button-down, torso filling out nicely with all the added time she _knew_ he'd been devoting to the weight room this semester. "I suppose you did," he grinned, accepting a proffered mug of steaming dark roast with a brief comic bow of gratitude.

"Now, I don't want you thinking we're treating you right," she began firmly.

"I would never."

"This'll be a bit below minimum wage, with absolutely no benefits and no perks."

"There is a medical team on staff, though. Plus I think you underestimate the value of your company. But mostly the power of a nice cup of Joe."

"You can thank your boy for that. I thought Burt was going to use it as soil at one point—he didn't know what to make of it just sitting untouched in the cupboard, restless man." She didn't notice the far-off look on Blaine's face, too absorbed in a haze of her own.

"I will. Thank Kurt. And listen, I'm sorry I haven't made it around sooner. Now that my ED app for NYU is out of my hands and I'm not at school every night slaving away organizing _What Happens In Vegas_ ," he flashed his hands at the admittedly controversial homecoming theme, "I promise I'll be bugging you much more often."

She nodded. "Good. Congrats on your coronation, by the way."

He shifted on his feet. "Thanks."

"You told Kurt yet?"

"Haven't really found the right moment."

It was a long time before Carole spoke again. "It's apples and oranges, Blaine. You both deserve great things and recognize Lima is not the place you want that to happen."

"Some people definitely voted for me as a joke..."

That, sir, is muddy water that I _don't_ think you need to bring up during your next phone call. Do you take my son to be a fool?" She gathered up her dishes for the sink then turned her back to him, refilling his mug.

"You know I don't."

"Then tell him the truth, the right truth. If it's important to you then say it, if it's not then say that. Be sensitive, be careful to think before you imply this is exactly like the junior prom."

"It's not black and white, of–"

"We are discussing the same Kurt Hummel, whose penchant to in _fer_ is the biggest on God's green earth?"

He skipped a beat. "Yeah."

"Speaking of, maybe it's time to actually sick you on the yard."

"Ready when you are."

Carole eyed him. "Alright, first off is the fun of raking the front and back yards. You can find your supplies, I trust."

"With my eyes closed."

"Don't get cocky just yet, boy."

Bemused, he set off down the hall to the garage to collect a rake and some garbage bags. As he passed her on his way to the front yard, she piped up, "Do you need anything else?"

Blaine looked up from the door handle and a sly smile tugged at his lips. He backed up. "Can I turn [it](http://youtu.be/N4d7Wp9kKjA) up some?" She perked her ears up. David Bowie, of course. "Be my guest."

The boy went about the rest of his task with a bounce in his step, singing along to himself when the likes of the Ramones or even Nirvana came on. In the middle of a passionate rake-guitar solo to [Rush](http://youtu.be/JsKBIBJj-4M), he jolted up from where he was clearing up the sidewalk. Carole was in the middle of scraping Burt's eggs from the pan and eyed the boy as he jogged up to the kitchen window.

His fingers latched onto the bottom of the frame. Carole suppressed a smirk as she realized only half his face was in view. And he was probably on tip-toes.

"How's Finn?"

"Well goodness me, I have two sons? I'd almost forgotten." Twitches at the corners of her eye and mouth were faintly visible. "Good," she said, "I assume, since I have no evidence to the contrary."

"I haven't really been following how the team's doing this year."

"Neither have I."

"No? I'm sure Burt's been watching, though."

"Eh, he's got better things to do."

"Oh..." The uncertainty in his tone was evident by now. "I guess being in Congress he doesn't have much time to sit and watch OSU's games as much as he'd like, huh?"

Carole set her sponge down and rolled her eyes, laughing bitterly. "I can't _believe_ he didn't tell you. Honey, he quit the team before game season even started."

Blaine's curls bounced as he processed this. "What happened?"

He went on about wanting a degree, not a handful of concussions and no contingency plan. His wording was very flowery, I'm sure Ms. Berry was an influence.”

"But–”

“I did ask, more like interrogated, and it sounds like it's really what he wants. Burt's already offered him summers managing the shop seeing as Rodney has many cruises he and Martha have been putting off trying. That way he'd start saving for the option of grad school.”

“Well, that's different.”

“A whole lot of good different.”

His eyes crinkled. “What happened to 'Be who you want to be'? 'Follow your dreams'?”

“Sometimes parents say things they haven't sold themselves on.”

“No way.”

Carole nodded grimly. “All the time.”

Mom says she wouldn't blink before disowning me next year if I leave off calling her for more than two weeks–” He was cut off by drops of cold water flicked at his face from the open tap. Blaine spluttered and wiped a hand over his face, but his eyes remained bright.

"Call your mother," Carole snapped.

"You know what? I think I'll call my mother." Blaine smiled cheekily. As he started back to his rake, Carole asked, "And how's Coop?"

Blaine laughed on an inhale. "Don't even get me started on that jerk. He's being extra Coopery; he's already seen Kurt on at least two stopovers in New York. My own brother is a better boyfriend to my boyfriend. I'm beginning to think Kurt's personality is too magnetic for my own good, or I've given him way too much embarrassing story material in just two years."

She giggled. "Is it safe to assume you don't handle your alcohol any better than you did at sixteen?"

Blaine groaned melodramatically. "No comment."

He trudged back to gather up the remaining leaves, which had been scattered by the wind. After depositing several garbage bags and the rake at the the side of the house, the boy parked himself at the kitchen island for a glass of water. Carole came in from where she'd been returning the broom.

"How much is the train from here to there anyways?"

Blaine sighed, "Well it's about a hundred one way, that gets me basically to Parsons' doorstep."

"But you're not running away and eloping, yes?"

"This is the same Kurt we're talking about, right?" The sass barely registered to Carole over the shy look that had clouded his eyes. He went on, "So it's a little over two hundred, but my parents are matching my earnings penny for penny out of a bewildered respect for my determination to work for it."

"Remind me again why–"

Blaine's voice broke in, pitched higher and a bit nasal: "Because we are not a charity case, _Blaine._ People have no right to pity us out of misguided assurance that we will fail, and I won't have either of us swinging one of those hideous bells for the ' _cause_ ', even metaphorically." He paused, then gasped. "Oh God, please don't tell him I just did that."

Carole's jaw was where she'd left it, still unhinged. "I, um, I just wish I'd already installed those security cameras Burt's been naggin' me about." She burst out laughing, Blaine still a bit mortified.

"But also," he said, "this is an early start for if I don't get in–" ("Oh, shush.") "–and we have to get used to covering transportation costs ourselves. And Kurt doesn't trust Greyhounds as far as he can throw 'em." His nose wrinkled at the off-kilter analogy.

"Blaine, you know we're always willing to at least split the costs with you two. You're the most responsible 18-going-on-80 year olds I know." She stilled a laugh, he smiled in concession.

"Thank you, I think, but.." he raised his palm to indicate his earlier outburst.

"If you say so," she sing-songed, pointing a finger towards the back door.

"[Mon-ey](http://youtu.be/KSwsPQdQ8TI?t=53s)," he burst out singing to the radio, " _It's a gas,_ " he shook his head to the beat as he pushed through the screen door. " _Grab that cash with both hands and ma-ake a stash._ " Carole's eyes twinkled as she followed him through the door, sitting at the stoop munching on a breadstick. Blaine executed a convincing saxophone solo, then topped it off with an impassioned collapse into his first pile. Suddenly Finn was right there before Carole's eyes, incarnate in the quiet house's backyard.

He brushed himself off and Carole beckoned for him to come over and duck his head down. She cleared out a few leaves and pushed his shoulder back towards his work. "So just how busy are you keeping yourself lately?"

Blaine peered up distractedly from his position by the far wooden fence. "Oh, I don't know, it's kind of expected senior year."

"Come on, what's on your plate?" Carole could feel the Hummel thrumming in her veins.

"Well, the homecoming committee is done with, though I'll probably get reeled into prom and maybe winter formal. I've got a handful of schools to apply to still, and some scholarships. Dalton's tuition seems miniscule compared to some of my reach schools." She raised a hand to heaven in agreement. "Then there's cross country now, mostly just 'cause I want to try track, I'm covering photos of the arts for yearbook..." Carole thought back to a recent Skype call with Kurt. " _It's not resumé stuffing, no one's forcing him..."_ he'd said as he buffed a spot on his leather boot, " _It's like he genuinely cares_ that _much... about, like, everything._ "

"…and I think I'm de facto president of the book club since Stephanie walked out after calling us a bunch of phonies. Hope to God I get the spring musical lead. Oh yeah, there's also Glee, I guess."

"How's that going?"

"Wonderfully, though we're still struggling to make new members feel at home while there's more new people than old."

"You must know something about that."

He grimaced. "Not enough about getting it right the first time."

She [hummed](http://youtu.be/P-AYAv0IoWI?t=19s) along to the beginning of 'Sweet Child of Mine'. "Easy: just don't be a Blaine...or a Finn."

Blaine huffed out a laugh, kicking up some leaves. "Sounds easy enough." The October wind ruffled the trees and they both pulled their jackets a little tighter.

"So what other plans do you have this break?" Carole spoke up a bit; they could both use distraction from the sudden chill.

"Considering Dalton has sufficient funds to keep their faculty happy, they're still in session. Might do some spying; I'm already ahead of the game since the uniform's still in my closet." ( _Might have to treat those stains from this summer first,_ his mind supplied) "–I heard our friends Nick and Jeff are on the edge of staging a coup: Jeff's official solo audition tally is up to 20 by now."

Carole couldn't stop the snort she released. Blaine grinned wryly. "What the Warblers don't know is he's about to get into Yale, but more importantly, he's totally getting into the Whiffenpoofs. Oh, they'll be sorry then alright."

"How can you be so sure he'll be joining them?"

He shrugged. "I guess it's just a feeling, but it's a strong one." [Like](http://youtu.be/SSR6ZzjDZ94) clockwork, the band Boston began to slip outdoors from the stereo, and Blaine pointed at Carole as if to say, _There you go._

She raised an eyebrow, then leaned forward conspiratorially. "Can I tell you something? That month before they went to Nationals for the first time, when Finn was pining for Rachel for a change, he would sing this song in the shower almost daily. It got to the point where Kurt was so fed up that he replaced Finn's conditioner with mayo and convinced him he'd be irresistible if he left the treatment in all day. My son," she paused, controlling her giggle, "walked for an entire day through the halls of McKinley with rotten egg sauce in his scalp in the hopes of getting that girl back. He puked when Kurt told him."

Blaine kicked another bag to the side of the house, grinning down at his feet.

"I thought Finn kind of forgot about the whole thing, especially once they got back from New York and both boys were glowing like mad. Then senior year came around, and for about three weeks after your guys' school musical Kurt passed every shower singing along to that one Florence and the Machine song at the top of his voice."

"What, 'Shake It Out'? Oh man, we were all singing that for months."

She clapped her hands once, inwardly reveling at what she knew would happen next. "'[Howl](http://youtu.be/4il0Az05Rn8)', that's it. 'Howl' was the name of that one."

Blaine blanched.

She went on, "Anyway, somehow Finn covered up some of that spray glue stuff to look just like Kurt's hairspray brand." Blaine was barely listening, and he'd stopped with the rake altogether. "That lasted a good couple days, and it shut Kurt up right quick. Don't think he'd noticed how repetitive it was getting. Funnily enough, Burt stopped skipping breakfast around the time Kurt got that mess in his hair."

Blaine choked out, "Weird!" and furiously set back to raking.

"Honey, try not to uproot _all_ the grass."

"Right."

"So you're almost done there, want to take care of the hose next?"

"Sure thing, boss."

"I'm just going inside to turn on the oven and things, be out in a second."

Blaine was left to untangling the watering hose in peace, quiet but for the light [tune](http://youtu.be/IrW7dlDHH28) of 'Something' that seemed to be carried on the afternoon's dimming light. He thought back to swaying in Tina's arms the night of homecoming, dancing to a slow song that was certainly not by the Beatles. They'd chuckled together when Blaine had first asked her to dance, partly at the height advantage that Tina only bolstered with heels (Blaine had even leaned his head on her shoulder) but mostly at being the picture of longing and misery at such a lively occasion. Tina had declined his half-hearted invitations after the first dance, leaving it at, "My mascara..."

Carole took up her seat again, just watching quietly as Blaine guided the untangled line onto its wheel. He looked remarkably boyish, eyes furrowed in concentration with a dash of faraway to them. When the spigot leapt from his hands he jumped a bit. He looked up to see Carole averting her eyes. "What next?"

"Need a break?"

"Yeah, why not?" She patted the stoop next to her. Once again, the child in Blaine peeked out as he crouched down. He obviously hadn't been expecting this. Carole leaned back against the doorway, facing him directly. "How are you holding up, really?"

His eyebrows raised minutely. From his position he was faced with the lowering sun, and he seemed to be deciding between squinting and winking. Carole adjusted her head so he could peer at her full-on.

"Not one person told me this would be easy. I know I'm keeping myself occupied, but I still have days I come out of and I couldn't tell you what I did, who I talked to, what I talked about. It's like there's a part of me that's not here because it's miles away, except Kurt doesn't even actually get to enjoy that part."

Carole upturned a palm that Blaine grabbed instinctively, continuing to gesture with his free hand.

"And I don't think either of us is too worried about jealousy, not since Seb did a damn good job at testing our limits last year." The other boy was probably yearning himself right now, having fallen into step with David Karofsky shortly after his own transfer to Dalton late senior year.

~

  
Having recognized David instantly as soon as the burly boy first passed him in the corridor, nervously adjusting a brand-new tie with clammy hands, Sebastian hadn't hesitated to make his presence known. He had offered David homework help (despite being a year younger) paired with directions to the nearest lavatory, but what he hadn't accounted for was being the first person to treat Dave like a human being– and not a delicate flower– in a while. With [time](http://youtu.be/WKxIfOdwSJE), Sebastian acquired a latent fondness for dimples and lost some of his predatory abrasiveness. At some point the covert glances started coming from both directions, and more than once Dave caught himself listing Seb in his 'things to look forward to'.

The night before Dave was to leave for college in Cleveland, the two were three whisky shots in at Scandals when Sebastian cut them both off, clasping Dave's wrist before he could order another round.

The younger boy had led them across the dance floor and to the restroom, saying as he went, "I changed my mind, I want us both to remember tonight."

Dave had chuckled and let himself be dragged into a stall by his lapels, mind already a little hazy. He'd made way for the door to swing shut behind them. "I can't make any promises."

"Well I can," Sebastian had laughed as he slowly sank down to his knees.

"May I?" he'd breathed before going a step further, eyes drifting upwards and legs absolutely rattling.

Dave had replied shakily, "Seb, we haven't even kissed yet," and even as he spoke Sebastian had dipped his head and let his lips graze over Dave's zipper in a slow kiss. "I'll be back up there in a bit, how's that?"

Their so-called 'best first kiss ever' hadn't been forgotten by either party.

~

  
"But you know what it's like missing someone, it can't be that different," Blaine continued.

"Blaine, I went many many years thinking the rest would be spent in solitude. I at least know how to go through the motions even if I'd prefer not to."

"I guess we just can't predict how we'll change while we're apart. What if in a year's time I do in fact end up in New York and we want so desperately for it to work, but it doesn't quite take? What then?"

Carole's mind drifted to a memory she knew too well, something that had given her a lot to think about since it happened at Christmastime last year.  


~

  
She saw her husband clearly, seated next to her on the sofa, both of them ostensibly reading by the light of a side lamp. With idle wonder, they had been watching Kurt and Blaine flip through the pages of Vogue by the light of the fire, lying side-by-side on their stomachs.

The boys were taking turns pressing perfume samples to their inner arms, then sharing each new smell with one another. At one of Blaine's many "God no"s, Kurt had rolled onto his back with an indignant huff. "What, then?" he'd said lazily, smiling down his nose.

Blaine had scooted up and nosed at Kurt's jawline, nuzzling for a long minute before backing off carefully when he had remembered the eyes on him. Still, shyly he'd murmured back, "I like your scent best," in response to Kurt's forgotten question. Kurt had looked away, biting his lip.

All at once, Carole had turned to witness Burt's fixed eyes and his set jaw. "They're too big to fail," he'd whispered slowly. They both knew right then and there that what Burt said wasn't in doubt of their strength, but rather in fear of what it might mean.

~

  
Blaine looked up when he felt Carole's arm around his shoulders. She'd scooted closer to him on the concrete stoop. "I have a problem believing," she said, "that you two can grow apart that easily. Yes, college changes people,"– Blaine's stomach always clenched tightly whenever he heard this– "but not against their will. Kurt will be honing himself into a more concentrated form of the whirlwind he's always been (from what I hear) and at the heart of that is love for you. Yeah, I can't promise you that forever is what's in store for the two of you, but I can guarantee it won't be if you're resigned to failure."

"He's never known his true self, never been allowed to express himself to the fullest before now..."

"Look around you and reassess that piddly statement, please. I have a quiche to attend to."

"Oh my God, that's so–"

"Yes, it is." She stood up and walked into the house to move a dish she'd already prepared from the fridge to the oven.

Blaine remained seated and swayed along to the [sound](http://youtu.be/3oWIF2n4ZLs) of Fleetwood Mac's 'Gypsy', the tune making him want to scream and laugh and cry all at once. Over a year ago, through a light May rain, Kurt had rung Blaine around noontime, hesitantly asking him to come over as soon as school got out.

~

  
"What, today?"

"Can you?"

Blaine looked over at the thin streams of water flowing down his dorm window that had been keeping him company for the past ten minutes. Dalton had half-days on the first Wednesday of every month to allow for staff meetings, but this type of weather was good for nothing except keeping hundreds of restless boys and buckets of testosterone cooped up indoors for hours.

"I'll be there as fast as possible."

"Blaine."

"I'll be there soon." The drive would still take a good two hours on the sunniest day.

When Kurt's Navigator pulled up in the driveway, Blaine was outside his door before the engine had a chance to die down.

"What are you doing outside? You're half-soaked," Kurt moaned as the door swung open, biting back a smile.

Blaine quickly hoisted himself onto the foothold by the driver's seat, ducking his head under the shelter of the car's high ceiling. He crowded Kurt against the headrest with one palm at Kurt's overwarm cheek and the other hand latched onto the assist handle above the door. His fingers curled as he sucked on Kurt's bottom lip, reveling in the disgruntled squeak when Kurt's hands met his dripping tee.

"My hero," Blaine said breathlessly, slipping down and out of the car. Kurt fumbled his way out of his seatbelt, then glanced between the sheets of water coming down and his leather messenger bag in the passenger seat. "I'll get that later." He motioned towards the house, but his boyfriend's feet weren't budging. The showers had eased up to a steady, light fall. Blaine waited, feet spread apart and hands curled at his sides. Kurt turned to lock the car and before he knew it Blaine was back in his space, hot hands gripping Kurt's biceps as he nipped at the curve of the taller boy's neckline.

"People can see us, you know," Kurt said, noncommittal in a line he was already tired of delivering.

"Well, I hope they're enjoying the show."

The rain continued to weigh down on them, and Blaine closed his eyes in bliss even as Kurt remonstrated him from above: "Your only saving grace right now is that we're both wearing all cotton."

"Mm, 100% yours, babe." One of Blaine's eyes perked open. "You been sneakin' glances at my undergarments?"

"If by 'sneaking' you mean taking a look at what's readily on display through your _white pants, Blaine, white,_ yes your boxer briefs did catch mine eye, Calvin." One side of Blaine's mouth curled up, exposing teeth. "Stop it," he said, "you'll add to my weird complexes."

"Mm, now that I'm feeling turned on but about as sexy as an adult diaper, can we go inside yet?"

"Depends. What's in it for me? I'm kind of enjoying my view, too." He pawed at the front of Kurt's thin off-white t-shirt, singing softly and too high, " _The touch, the feel..."_

Kurt wrapped his long fingers all the way around one of Blaine's wrist. "I want to take you upstairs to my bedroom and kiss you from head to toe. Will you come inside now?"

"Let's do this."

As the two toed off their wet socks and shoes in the front hall, Kurt spoke. "Dad's at work 'til 6 every day this week after that girl took a hammer to all those cars at Carmel, and Carole must've just taken off. Finn and Rachel are with the Evanses 'til late."

"How's Sam doing?"

"Better, now. Any more questions?" Kurt asked, slightly out of breath.

Blaine was fiddling with several curls that lay smack on his forehead. He licked his lips, looking down. "Pants?"

"Of course, mi closet es su closet. Follow me." He led Blaine to his walk-in closet and flicked the door shut behind him. Blaine was just tying the drawstring on Kurt's only pair of sweatpants, distinctly conscious that he'd gone commando instead of bringing his sopping-wet-underwear predicament to Kurt's attention, when some bold black print caught his eye from the corner chair.

"Kurt..."

"Mm-hmm?" An arm stuck out from inside the closet, holding the white tee that had been screenprinted just a week ago.

"What's this?"

"I definitely told you about 'this'."

"Ah, but now it is a thing that is tangible and right before my very eyes."

"Your point?"

"Let's just say if this," he shook the shirt at where he thought Kurt was located, careful to conceal his unclothed torso, "was not in fact the truth then I'm not really sure I'd know what to do with myself."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd have a _very_ difficult time dealing with it."

"You're right, it would be very hard." Blaine heard his boyfriend's feather-light snort through the crack in the door. He couldn't help but take a peek outside. "You've got me good, sugar. To the point of helplessness."

"You're cute. Hey, hand me that actually." Kurt scooped himself off the bed and made a grab for the shirt before Blaine whipped it back through the crack in the door. Kurt's ears flared at the flash of torso that Blaine's current grin had quickly replaced.

"I'm sorry, I'm too attached."

"Find yourself one of my middle school shirts, they may actually stop above your knees."

"So far from my good side right now."

"Promise you'll appreciate where this is going. Also, can you hand me those jeans to your left, sweet?"

Kurt's shirt and pants landed in a soft heap at his feet.

Kurt tsked as he made his way to the ensuite bath. "Petulant."

"Perjurous."

Blaine emerged moments later, wet clothes bundled between his hands, wearing a v-neck tee he had tried to give Kurt several weeks ago. He'd been graciously rejected. (" _I'm a winter, Blaine, a_ win _ter. Doesn't that mean anything to you?_ " Truly, it hadn't. " _I can't be seen in public wearing a v-neck, it'd be dreadful. Mortifying."_ )

"Where'd you go?" Blaine asked the seemingly empty bedroom.

[Kurt](http://youtu.be/pcawnRIyeok) was holding the door to the bathroom open with his hip, scratching an elbow with his eyes out of focus. He came to after a minute, meeting Blaine's eyes with a sharp inhale. "You can, um, drape your stuff by the tub..."

Blaine's jaw had slackened considerably. "–I didn't know you were putting it on."

"What else was I going to do, huh?"

Blaine slipped through the doorway to rid himself of his soiled clothes, juggling the items so his underwear wouldn't slip out and make an unwelcome slap of an entrance on the tile. "I do like this better."

"I had an inkling. Wait, it gets better."

"'Boys', though."

"You have _'boys'_ plural," Kurt said indignantly. "Chris Evans, Neil Patrick Harris, Chris Pine, I'm sensing a pattern here..."

"Correction, I have men."

"Oh, so you're all set, are you? Guess you won't be needing me then," Kurt said as he backed out onto the carpet. Blaine took the opportunity to quickly hang up the briefs and his remaining t-shirt.

The next moment he was at Kurt's side in front of the vanity, playfully teasing up and down his ribs as Kurt attempted to comb his hair into its prior glory. "Tell me," Blaine said, unperturbed as Kurt wriggled and swatted his hands away, " _How_ can it possibly get better than this?"

A twitch of fingers had Kurt's comb tumbling to the carpet. They silently agreed to leave it there.

Kurt sighed deeply through his nose. "It's something small, but we did agree to baby steps."

Blaine clasped his fingers. "Antarctic baby steps. Black-and-white-and-red-all-over baby steps," he murmured, tracing a thumb over Kurt's reddened cheekbones.

"That's zebras," Kurt mumbled.

"I know that. Out with it."

"I want to lose a layer."

"Yeah?" He was still brushing again and again over Kurt's cheek, his pointer finger making rounds in the trim chestnut sideburns. In the clarity of the afternoon drizzle, he could pinpoint the minute freckles spattered across Kurt's nose and cheeks, so tiny Blaine was sure he'd been the only person to ever see them.

"Is that alright?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Well it is."

"Please can I go topless, too?"

"I'll take that as a yes." Kurt wandered over to his docked iPod and low music started up in the form of Fleetwood Mac's _Rumours_ album. "Glee," he said by way of explanation. He turned back to Blaine, who was perched on the edge of the bed, posture fluid. "C'mere," Blaine said, at once pulling Kurt to sit next to him and beginning to nudge him back towards the cushions at the headboard. Blaine hovered on hands and knees as Kurt scooted slowly, finally resting his head on a silk throw.

From above, Blaine dipped his head and eased their lips together, while Kurt's lashes were still lowered, betraying the way his gaze refused to lift from the pregnant space between their bodies. Just as Blaine was gaining purchase on his tongue, slotting two fingers between where Kurt's shirt met his shoulder, Kurt recoiled, going a bit cross-eyed trying to regain eye contact.

"Nobody–" he swallowed, "Nobody's seen me in...God, more than five years?" His voice lilted high, high even for him.

Blaine sat back, resting on his heels. "Seen you...?"

"Without a shirt on, is what I mean."

"What about gym?" His mouth gaped the slightest bit.

"I changed in the stalls, you know that. It's self-preservation."

"You mean to tell me you were serious about the swimming in shirts thing?"

"Deadly."

"But so it's not just about sunburns, then."

"It is and it isn't. Great cover, though."

"Figuratively and–"

"Shut up."

"Want me to go first?"

"No, I want this and don't want to get it into my head that I'm returning a favor. I want this..." Kurt placed one of Blaine's hands at his hemline, squeezing before letting go, "Right now..." he lifted his arms carefully and laid them to rest along either side of his head, "...With you," he finished, locking his pupils back on Blaine's.

Blaine lowered his eyes, watched the declaration "Likes boys" curl in on itself as he knelt to pull the shirt over Kurt's head. His eyes immediately darted down to the pale skin lining Kurt's pectorals, firm and monumental in comparison to the downy elastic swaths of his exposed underarms. Blaine hungrily watched the hypnotic rise and fall of Kurt's chest, sending the barely-there dips of his ribs into relief each time. His gaze rippled over the soft, fine hair hugging Kurt's belly and lower–

"Please share with the class," Kurt's tone masked the slightest tremor. He adjusted his torso and folded his arms above his waist.

"I honestly don't know where to start." Blaine laughed, self-deprecating. "God, I'm dizzy with it." He drew a hand up to run from the slope of Kurt's smooth neck, inching over his shoulder and down to cup his elbow. His gaze swept back to what were now softly clenched abdominals, then dragged up again to Kurt's calculating eyes.

"To be honest," Blaine sighed, "it's not what I imagined." He could just make out the muscle that jumped on his boyfriend's neck and Blaine palmed Kurt's shoulder before he could scramble out from under Blaine completely.

"That is to say," he punctuated this statement with a lingering peck to Kurt's sternum, "I could never have predicted being this attracted to you, Kurt Hummel." He eased his own shirt off and lowered his weight onto his forearms, measuredly pressing suckling kisses to Kurt's heaving chest, his sides, his collarbones, a single one an inch above the jeans' zipper.

Kurt's fingers curled at the base of Blaine's still-wet hair, bringing his face higher for an open-mouthed kiss and simultaneously reveling in his first glorious taste of warm flesh-on-flesh. In the periphery of their hearing, the faint click of the song changing flickered through the room. Despite what was now the roar of torrential rain in their ears, the [music](http://youtu.be/whiqrj05nf4) reverberated in their souls.

The two were rapidly being washed out to sea with voracious glances and grappling, heady touches. _Sweet, wonderful youth..._ the stereo crooned. Their eyes met at a distance, suddenly alight, and Blaine's eyebrows quirked playfully.

_…You make me happy with the things you do._

Minutes, possibly hours, passed. Blaine brought Kurt off with an exercised thigh, friction overwhelming thanks to the versatile pairing of sweats and jeans, finally swallowing Kurt's stuttering gasps before tumbling down himself to the tune of the fading notes of '[Dreams](http://youtu.be/oNavPWHmfI0)'. The rain was determinedly trying to lull both boys to sleep, even as Kurt was beginning to make his telltale "get me away from this mess" whimpers.

Soon enough, Blaine's lips let slip a mumble that Kurt worked out to be, "Happy hump day," and Kurt cringed in response. "Jesus Christ," he groaned, "I can't perform these songs in the choir room now."

Blaine chuckled, cheek pressed to Kurt's chest next to the place he was prodding with slow fingers to find where best to feel Kurt's pulse. "Sorry about your pants, too."

"I hope you mean the jeans, otherwise you shouldn't be."

~

  
The click of the screen door behind him jerked Blaine into the present, taking in the cooling Hudmel backyard surrounding him.

"That's enough rest for you, boy," Carole said.

"But mom..." he whined, filter having disintegrated after hours of disuse.

"Prove you're still spritely, young man. Your final assignment is weeding that stretch of dirt along the side wall." She spared him the comment in her head (" _Don't think I didn't notice the rugburn you wore like a trophy all summer, I know you're plenty capable of being on your knees."_ ) despite the fact she still begrudged the boys how much her laundry budget had shot up in the last year. And that was saying something considering she'd been tolerating Finn's wash count since he underwent puberty.

"Don't miss a single one or we'll have to dock your measly wages. I'll be inside throwing together a salad. You staying for dinner?"

"If you don't mind."

"I think we're way past that point, love. Go ahead and take your pick between the boys' gloves."

Blaine headed back inside the garage and slipped Kurt's navy gloves off their hook on the wall, well aware the fit was a bit loose but finding it hard to care. He proceeded to pick through the herb garden strategically, piling the weeds high in a bucket at his side. From inside, he could vaguely hear Carole singing along to the Rolling Stones.

As he went, the sky progressed from blue to fuchsia, reaching a cloudy maroon before he decided he couldn't proceed without more light. In the middle of massaging feeling back into his lower legs, he heard the opening [bars](http://http://youtu.be/HBKcAc8VpIw?t=5s) of 'Ain't No Sunshine' resounding from the living room. Carole had come to the back door to flip the light switch for him, but she was frozen to inaction as the strings picked them both up and carried them both away.

Leaning into the doorframe, her lips tilted into a sad smile, eyes big as orbs as they met Blaine's.

"Come inside as soon as you're finished, okay?" she said as she reached her arm across to the bathe the lawn in warm fluorescent light.

She slipped back inside before Blaine could form a response.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, loves!


End file.
